Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Neva Die Alone , by - Capone-N-Noreaga. Release date: 16.06.1997
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Neva Die Alone |
| Huhuhahhahahha… oh shit! |
| Haha… |
| The invincible — CNN |
| The unstoppable — CNN |
| Lebanon, Bosnia, Kuwait, Iraq, Syria — yo, yo, yo |
| Yo icepick, Arabic, Saudi Arabia |
| My clique roll thick, rip shit, like WrestleMania |
| Saddam Hussein — president of what I claim |
| Still the same name, tied to this shit like I’m to blame |
| Then maintain, gettin' this CREAM with bloodstain |
| 2−5-2 cause the crew stuck in the game |
| A quarterly, you vs. me, and try to slaughter me |
| The door was locked — top lock stuck, bad luck |
| Come out the elevator — k-tone, like «Nigga what?» |
| Arab Nazi — play the low, can coca-colo |
| What up though — 151, we smoke 'dro |
| Brown bags — tons of hash get smoked |
| Yo that real shit — pro’ly make you bleed down your throat |
| Then choke — coughin' up the murder I wrote |
| I smoke spanky — hit it hard, mega hard |
| Then burn it down under the ground around guard |
| I rented — bitch on my dick then I presented |
| Diploma — keep her wide open in Tony Roma |
| Back shots — Holiday Inn about to bone her |
| And cold own her — drop her off inside Corona |
| With pistolo — call me tomorrow on the 'Rola |
| The Ayatollah — strike back you’re just a soldier |
| For them thug niggas holding their gats and never scared |
| I’m prepared — every day get bent on beers |
| Play the corner close — quick to jump on the toast |
| Dead shot — take your knot, dun and get ghost |
| While you talk fronting — walk fronting like a villain |
| Soft something — so hot what a feeling |
| Mo' with the ice chillin' |
| Roll dice make a killin' |
| Wanna see twice a million |
| No love for a got civilian |
| Make salat, in the spot, kneelin' |
| For a second, freeze dealin' |
| Back to business |
| Pump 'til the pack finished |
| Stack spinach |
| Mad bent, crash renters |
| Full enough to whip somethin' |
| A-alike twist somethin' |
| Henny got my shit sunken |
| Stay drunken |
| Wit' a bop, holdin' your cock (yeah!) |
| Pushin' weed drop (hahaha!) |
| Yeah the game don’t stop (don't stop nigga) |
| Let the beat drop |
| Bring it back to the top |
| Just for them thug niggas, chicks and hard rocks |
| Street to cell block |
| Rock to Comstock |
| Movin' like a flock of Arabs in war-lock |
| Makin' on blocks of four-carat stone |
| Infrared chrome |
| In Kuwait I await skull and crossbone |
| In my own zone, Motorola flip-phone |
| The infrared on the Giorgio Armani specs |
| Blowin' tecs at the opposite sex |
| For the six-figure check, my slug injects |
| When the god lay to rest |
| My seed is next |
| I was blessed with a thug’s caress |
| And a dime’s finesse |
| Titanium chest and bubble vest |
| (Yeah… titanium chest and bubble vest…) |
| My pop’s dead now it’s too late to warn me, inform me |
| D’s wanna plant keys on me |
| Eternally I wanna sleep |
| Without the venom of a snake nigga tryin' to creep |
| Stakes is high and a thug’s blood runs deep |
| The Jakes wanna see me layin' under six feet |
| Or so it seems, now my team work against me |
| They can’t stop my money move — it’s too intensely |
| Khadafi, I plant bombs where the Feds be |
| I’m like Moses in the middle of the Red Sea |
| With infrared and a case full of hundred G |
| Leadin' my thugs to the land of Qiyami |
| With no cops, pure coke growing on the tree |
| Arab Nazi |
| Tommy Hill and Nikes on |
| Guerrilla rap song |
| Yeah- CNN guerrilla rap song |